50 Shades of Paige
by fiestyfirefly4
Summary: I've read 50 Shades of Grey by E.L. James and thought that it could work with Paige and Emily. If any of you have read the book you know what to expect, those who have not... well your in for a ride. Emily is a 21 year old student sent at short notice to interview Paige McCullers a wealthy entrepreneur. Emily's life is about to change...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Part 1 - Emily Fields

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair - it just won't behave and damn Hanna Marin for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. _I must not seep with it wet.I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet._ Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the dark-haired girl with brown eyes and give up. My only option is to retrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi-presentable.

Hanna is my roommate, and she has chose today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged to do, with some mega business tycoon I've never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finance and I'm supposed to be working this afternoon, but no - today I have to drive a hundred and twenty-five miles to L.A in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of McCullers Enterprise Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, her time is extraordinarily precious - much more precious than mine - but she has granted Hanna an interview a real coup, she tells me, damn her extracurricular activities.

Hanna is huddled on the couch in the living room.

"Em, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off, please." Hanna begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gorgeous, short blonde hair in place and blue eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pant of unwelcome sympathy.

"Of course I'll go, Hanna. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?"

"Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I'll transcribe it all."

"I know nothing about her." I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my ringing panic.

"The questions will see you through. Go. It's a long drive. I don't want you to be late."

"Okay, I'm going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later." I stare at her fondly. _Only for you, Hanna, would I do this._

"I will. Good luck. And thanks, Em - as usual you're my lifesaver."

Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Hanna talk me into this. But then Hanna could talk anyone into anything. She'll make an exceptional journalist. She's articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful - and she's my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from San Diego toward L.A. It's early and I don't have to be in L.A until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Hanna's lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK. I'm not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Ms McCuller's global enterprise. It's a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with McCuller's House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It's a quarter to two when I arrived, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk into the enormous and frankly intimidating - glass, steel and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She's wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

"I'm here to see Ms McCullers. Emily Fields for Paige McCullers."

"Excuse me one moment, Miss Fields" She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I'd borrowed one of Hanna's formal blazer's rather than wear my navy blue jacket. I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible black knee-length boots and a blue sweeter. For Me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ears as I pretend she doesn't intimidate me.

"Miss Marin is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Fields. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor." She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can't help my smirk. Surely it's obvious I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all. _Nothing changes._ I inwardly sign. Thanking her, I walk over to the back elevator past two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open and I'm in another large lobby - again all glass, steel and white sandstone. I'm confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccable in black and white that rises to greet me.

"Miss Fields, could you wait here please?" She points to a seated area of white leather chairs. Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the L.A Skyline that looks out through the city. It's a stunning Vista and I'm momentarily paralysed by the view. _Wow._

I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel and go through them, inwardly cursing Hanna for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this woman I'm about to interview. She could be ninety or she could be thirty. The uncertainty is galling and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I've never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of group discussions where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting, twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. _Get a grip, Fields._ Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess McCullers is in her forties: fit, tanned, and blonde to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It's like a blonde-haired Step-ford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

"Miss Fields?" the latest blonde asks.

"Yes" I croak and clear my mind. "Yes" There that sounded more confident.

"Ms McCullers will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?"

"Oh please" I struggle out of the jacket.

"Have you been offered any refreshment?"

"Um-no." Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

"Would you like tea, coffee, water?" she asks, turning her attention back to me.

"A glass of water, Thank you." I murmur.

"Olivia, please fetch Miss Field's a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

"My apologies, Miss Fields, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Ms McCullers will be another five minutes."

Olivia returns with a glass of water.

"Here you go, Miss Fields."

"Thank you"

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continued their work.

Perhaps Ms McCullers insists on all her employees being blonde. I'm wondering idly if that's legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive dark haired man exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and say's through the door. "Golf, this week Champ."

"I didn't hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She's more nervous than me!

"Good afternoon, Ladies." He says as he departs through the sliding door.

"Ms McCullers will see you now, Miss Fields. Do go through." Blonde number Two says. I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

"You don't need to knock - just go in." She smiles kindly.


	2. Chapter 1 - Part 2

Chapter 1 - Part 2

I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet and falling head first into the office. Double crap - me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Ms McCullers office and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow - she's so young.

"Miss Marin." She extends a perfectly manicured hand to me once I'm upright. "I'm Paige McCullers. Are you alright? Would you like to sit?"

So young - and attractive, very attractive. She's tall and slim and it's evidence from the way her clothes cling to her body she definitely works out. She's dressed in a grey pant suit, with a white blouse and a loose black tie around her neck. The ensemble would look masculine on most but she looks like she just walked off a catwalk somewhere. This outfit along with straight dark copper coloured hair and intense bright green eyes momentarily still my voice in my throat.

"Um, Actually" I finally mutter. If this woman is over thirty then I'm a monkey's uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in hers and we shake. Our finger's touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed.I must be a state. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

"Miss Marin is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Ms McCullers."

"And you are?" Her voice is warm, possibly amused, but it is difficult to tell from her impassive expression. She looks mildly interested but above all, polite.

"Emily Fields. I'm studying English Literature with Hanna, Um Miss Maris at USF."

"I see", she says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in her expressions, but I'm not sure. "Would you like to sit?" She waves me toward a white leather-buttoned L-shaped couch.

Her office is way too big for just one woman. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white - ceiling, floors and walls, except on the wall by the door where a mosaic of small paintings hand, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite - a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

"A local artist. Toby Cavanagh" says McCullers when she catches my gaze.

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary" I murmur distracted both by her and the paintings. She cocks her head to one side and regards me intently.

"I couldn't agree more with you Miss Fields" she replies her voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personally of the Goddess who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts and retrieve Hanna's questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Ms McCullers says nothing, waiting patiently - I hope - as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at her, she's watching me, one hand relaxed in her lap and the other cupping her chin and trailing her polished index finger across her lips. I think she's trying to suppress a smile.

"Sorry" I stutter. "I'm not used to this."

"Take all the time you need, Miss Fields." she says.

"Do you mind if I record your answers?" mumbles hesitantly from my voice. What if she says no?

"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder - you ask me now?"

I flush. She's teasing me? I hope. I blink at her, unsure what to say, and I think she takes pity on me because she relents. "No I don't mind".

"Did Hanna, I mean Miss Marin explain what the interview was for?" I ask.

"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."

 _Oh!_ This is news to me, and I'm temporarily preoccupied by the thought that someone not much older than me - okay maybe 4 years or so, and okay, mega-successful, but still is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

"Good" I swallow nervously. "I have some questions, Ms McCullers." I smooth a stray lock of hair being my ear.

"I thought you might" she says deadpan. She's laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realisation and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

"You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I glance up at her. Her smile is rueful, but she looks vaguely disappointed.

"Business is all about people, Miss Fields and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't what inspires them and how to incentivise them. I employ an exceptional team and I reward them well". She pauses and fixes me with her stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail.I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot an nurture a good solid idea and good people the bottom line is, it's always down to good people."

"Maybe you're just lucky." This isn't on Hanna's list - but she's so arrogant. Her eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Fields. The harder I work, the more lucky I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said 'the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership."

"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Oh I exercise control in all things, Miss Fields." she says without a trace of humour in her smile. I look at her, and she holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.


	3. Chapter 1 - Part 3

Why does she have such an unnerving effect on me? Her overwhelming good looks maybe? The way her eyes blaze at me? The way she strokes her index finger against her lower lip? I wish she'd stop doing that.

"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things." she continues, her voice soft.

"Do you feel that you have immense power?" _Control Freak._

"I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Fields. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility - power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so".

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by her lack of humility.

"Don't you have a board to answer to?" I ask, disgusted.

"I own my company, I don't have to answer to a board or anyone." she raises an eyebrow at me. I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, she's so arrogant. I change tack.

"And do you have any interests outside your work?" I'm probing.

"I have varied interest, Miss Fields." A ghost of a smile touchers her lips. "Very varied."

And for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by her steady gaze. Her eyes are alight with some wicked thought. "But, if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"

"Chill out?" She smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. She really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it - I swim, I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits." She shifts in her chair and leans forward. "I'm a very wealthy woman, Miss Fields and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."

I glance quickly at Hanna's questions, wanting to get off this subject.

"You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?" I ask. Why does she make me so uncomfortable?

"I like to build things. I like to know how things work, what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?"

"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts."

Her mouth quirks up, and she stares appraisingly at me. "Possibly. Though there are people who say I don't have a heart."

"Why would they say that?" I'm genuinely intrigued.

"Because they know me well." Her lips curl in a wry smile.

"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" I regret the question as soon as I say it. It's not on Hanna's list.

"I'm a very private person Miss Fields. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews." she trails off.

"Why did you agree to do this one?"

"Because I'm a benefactor of the University and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Marin off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people and I admire that kind of tenacity."

I know how tenacious Hanna can be. That's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under her penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

"You invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?"

"We can't eat money, Miss Fields and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."

"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's poor?"

She shrugs, very noncommittal.

"It's shrewd business." she murmurs, though I think she's disingenuous. It's doesn't make sense - feeding the world's poor? I can't see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by her attitude.

"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"

"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle - Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular driven. I like control - of myself and those around me."

"So you want to possess things?" _You are a control freak._

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer."

"I am" she smiles, but the smile doesn't touch her eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Hanna has enough material now? I glance at the next question.

"You were adopted. How much do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh, this is personal. I stare at her, hoping she's not offended. Her brow furrows.

"I have no way of knowing."

My interest is piqued.

"How old were you when you were adopted?"

"That's a matter of public records, Miss Fields." Her tone stern. I blush, again. _Crap._ Yes of course - if I'd known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

"You've had to sacrifice a family life for your work."

"That's not a question." She's terse.

"Sorry." I squirm, and she's made me feel like an errant child. I try again. "Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?"

"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."

"Are you gay, Miss McCullers?"

She inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. _Crap._ Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell her I'm just reading the questions? Damn Hanna and her curiosity!

"Yes Emily, I am." She raises her eyebrows, a cool gleam in her eyes. She does not look pleased.

"I apologise. It's um… written here." It's the first time she's said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

She cocks her head to one side. "These aren't your questions?"

The blood drains from my head. _Oh no._ "Err… no Hanna - Miss Marin - she compiled the questions."

"Are you colleagues on the student paper?" _Oh crap._ I have nothing to do with the student paper. It's her extracurricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.

"No, she's my roommate."

She rubs her chin in quiet deliberation, her brown eyes appraising me.

"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" she asks her voice deadly quite.

Hang on, who's supposed to be interviewing whom? Her eyes burn into me, and I'm compelled to answer with the truth.

"I was drafted. She's not well." My voice is weak and apologetic.

"That explains a great deal."

There's a knock at the door, and brunette Number Two enters.

"Ms McCullers, forgive me for interrupting, but you next meeting is in two minutes."

"We're not finished here Andrea, Please cancel my next meeting."

Andrea hesitates, gaping at her. She appears lost. Ms McCuller's turns her head slowly to face her and raises her eyebrows. Andrea flushes bright pink. _Oh good, it's not just me._

"Very well, Ms McCullers." she mutters then exists. Ms McCullers frowns and turns her attention back to me.

"Where were we, Miss Fields?"

 _Oh, we're back to 'Miss Fields' Now_

"Please don't let me keep you from anything."

"I want to know about you. I think that's only fair." Her brown eyes are alight with curiosity. _Double crap. Where's she going with this?_ She places her elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples her fingers in front of her mouth. Her mouth is very distracting. I swallow.

"There's not much to know" I say, flushing again.

"What are your plans after you graduate?" I shrug, thrown by her interest. _Go to L.A with Hanna, find a place, find a job._ I haven't really thought beyond my finals.

"I haven't made any plans, Ms McCullers. I just need to get through my final exams." Which I should be studying for now, rather than sitting in you palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

"We run an excellent internship program here." she says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is she offering me a job?

"Oh. I'll bear that in mind." I murmur, completely confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here." Oh no. I'm musing out loud again.

"Why do you say that?" She cocks her head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" _I'm uncoordinated, scruffy and I'm not blonde._

 _"_ Not to me" she murmurs. Her gaze is intense, all humour gone and strange muscles deep in my belly clenched suddenly. I tear my eyes away from her scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. _What's going on?_ I have to go - now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

"Would you like me to show you around?" she asks.

"I'm sure you're far too busy, Ms McCullers and I do have a long drive"

"You're driving back to San Francisco?" She sounds surprised, anxious even. She glances out of the window. It's begun to rain.

"Well, you'd better drive carefully." Her tone is stern and authoritarian. Why should she care? "Did you get everything you need?" she adds.

"Yes Ms McCullers." I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. Her eyes narrow, speculatively.

"Thank you for the interview, Ms McCullers."

"The pleasure's been all mine." she says as polite as ever.

As I rise, she stands and holds out her hand.

"Until we meet again, Miss Fields." and it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake her hand once more, astounded that the odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

"Ms McCullers." I nod at her. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, she opens it wide.

"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Fields." She gives me a small smile. Obviously, she's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into her office. I flush.

"That's very considerate, Ms McCullers" I snap, and her smile widens. _I'm glad you find me entertaining._ I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I'm surprised when she follows me out. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

"Did you have a coat?" McCullers asks.

"Yes" Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which McCullers takes from her before she can hand it to me. She holds it up and feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on. McCullers places her hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If she notices my reaction, she gives nothing away.

Her polished index finger presses the button summoning the elevator and we stand waiting - awkwardly on my part, cooly self-possessed on her. The doors open and I hurry in desperate to escape. _I really need to get out of here._ When I turn to look at her, she's leaning against the doorway being the elevator with one hand on the wall. She really is very, very beautiful. It's distracting. Her burning brown eyes gaze at me.

"Emily" she says as a farewell.

"Paige" I reply. And mercifully the doors close.


End file.
